


Blood Waltz

by Quinnoid



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Banter, Blood Drinking, Other, Pre-negotiated non-sexual scene, Vampire!Zolf, Vampires, Waltzing, taking a bit of liberties with potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27541030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinnoid/pseuds/Quinnoid
Summary: The waltz slowly climbs to a crescendo, and Cel spins them both one more time before dipping him just as the music tumbles down. They’re panting slightly and grinning as Zolf smirks crookedly up at them, showing off one fang.
Relationships: Celiquillithon "Cel" Sidebottom & Zolf Smith, Celiquillithon "Cel" Sidebottom/Zolf Smith
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	Blood Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Friday the 13th! 
> 
> This is The Scene. It also went rather off track from my original idea, but tis the dangers of not planning a fic before writing it. I used mostly the same biology as in KMHS, and hinted at it being set after, though this is very much a stand alone fic and will most likely stay that way.
> 
> The Blood Waltz ~ Mister Misery was the main inspiration for both KMHS and this scene, AND THEN they came out with an orchestral version on Halloween and I died a bit, because melody wise, it's the exact tone I wanted this and KMHS to be. (Beware, they're a horror metal band, and the lyrics contain dark themes) Anyway, I heard the original for the first time and went ooooh, vampire feeding waltz! And this idea was born. So enjoy!

The mood’s set, with the gentle swell of the waltz filtering through the air. Cel’s shoved most of their stuff aside to make room, leaving just a large, soft armchair and the table clear. Quickly, they run through the checklist they made in their head. “Hydrate, eat, clean, check, check, check.. And I did.. So why do I feel like I’m missing.. Oh, duh! Right!” They grab a potion from the drawer and down it just before Zolf knocks on the doorframe and steps inside. 

“Mr. Smith!” Cel adjusts the sleeves of their tailcoat and grins cheekily at him, the potion already burning pleasantly. “Right on time.”

“Mx. Sidebottom.” His smile is much softer, almost purely loving if it weren’t for the hint of hunger behind it. He’s also wearing a suit, black with green accents, indulging in the aesthetics of the scene. After all, this is just as much for Cel as it is for him. Back in the beginning, once Zolf trusted them, him feeding on them was purely for the research. However, Cel had quickly realized how hard it was to take notes when their mind was floating a million miles away. After the third try, they gave up, gave in to the haze of enjoyment. There’s certainly something to be studied, since sheer euphoria isn’t this common in severe blood loss cases, but Cel gradually stopped caring to try.

The record catches and quickly resets as Zolf steps up to them, one hand outstretched. He’s still been growing taller, a side effect they assume is from how he was transformed, and now, he stands at Cel’s shoulder. “May I have this dance?” He asks. His smile quirks up a bit more as Cel takes his hand. They lead him to the center of the room, and after taking a second to find the song’s tempo, pull him into a close waltz. 

Cel leads, and he lets himself be pulled along, resting his hands gently on their shoulders. He sniffs and glances at their throat before catching their smirk. “You take something?”

“Maybe,” Cel breathes. They can feel the potion slowly working its way through their bloodstream, buzzing and crackling. “You’ll like it.” As it dawns on Zolf, they blink and pull back a bit, worry immediately burning a strange path up their throat. Before they can actively second guess themself though, he puts a finger to their lips. 

“I’m sure I will.” He traces their lower lip, then drags his finger slowly down their jawline and along the line of the muscle that follows the jugular vein. They shiver when he lets one sharp claw out, pressing just hard enough to leave a red line but not draw blood. It’s too early for that. Cel tightens their hands on his hips and takes a long step back, grinning when he follows them nearly effortlessly. 

“You’ve gotten better Mr. Smith.”

He snorts. “It’d help if you didn’t change up your steps.”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” Cel asks as the music swells up, and they pull him into a tight spin. “It’s much more entertaining to keep you on your toes.” 

Zolf grumbles something that they don’t quite catch, but his claws dig into their shoulder blades. They have to bite down a whimper, and for just a second, they let their eyes flutter closed. 

“Ready?” Zolf whispers, and Cel feels him shiver slightly. When they open their eyes, he’s staring up at them intensely, and they can see the tips of two needle-sharp fangs poking just past his upper lip. For just a moment, they hesitate, and it’s enough for him to back off and settle back into the sway of the music. They need just another minute, because this potion isn’t as fast acting as their others, and there’s always more time to dance. 

The waltz slowly climbs to a crescendo, and Cel spins them both one more time before dipping him down just as the music tumbles down. They’re panting slightly and grinning as Zolf smirks crookedly up at them, showing off one fang. He surges up suddenly, only catching them a little bit by surprise, and kisses them hard, though he’s careful not to cut their lip. Their eyebrows shoot up as the music begins to pick up again, and without breaking the kiss, Zolf straightens up and pulls them back into the waltz. After a minute, Cel has to pull away to breathe, and silently curses themself for not having made a potion for that already. The music reaches its crescendo again, and this time, Zolf dips them and hovers just over their neck.

“Cel?” He asks, and they shiver at the cool whisper of breath that tickles them. Instead of answering, they let their head fall backwards, eyes falling shut. That’s permission enough for Zolf, and he leans in and sniffs before fangs brush up their neck. The first bite is always the worst, comparatively. Cel swallows down a moan as his fangs prick their neck, not so deep as to reach the artery or vein that pulse so close, but enough to instantly draw two steady trickles of blood. The sting vanishes in an instant with a rush of giddiness. Zolf sucks gently, drawing a little bit more from the shallow wounds before pulling away with a small gasp. Cel mostly succeeds at hiding their whimper.

“You taste.. different.” Zolf closes his eyes and licks his lips. “Spicy?”

“Yeah.” They chuckle. “Potion. I can tell you about it after.”

Zolf hums and leans back in. “You were right. I do like it.” He murmurs before he licks up the trail of blood that had made its way to their collarbone. They tangle their fingers in his hair as he sucks again, and for a moment they lose themself in the rush of endorphins. 

When Cel starts to tremble from the exertion of holding themself half upright, he sits back and scoops them up easily. They can’t quite silence their whimper when he pulls their head down and kisses them. The blood on his lips crackles like little sparks of static electricity. Zolf carries them to the chair and sets them down gently. He steps away as they shrug out of their tailcoat and unbutton their undershirt. Zolf stops them from slipping out of it completely with a shake of his head. Cel leans back, eyes half closed and waits. Their part is over, the waltz and the potion and their state of dress just there to establish the mood, just an extra bit for both of them to enjoy.

Zolf slips out of his own coat, and Cel raises one eyebrow lazily as he chucks it over towards the table. He’s not wearing a shirt beneath it, which must have been horribly itchy, though not everyone has their dislike for certain materials. Zolf steps in close, and they shiver again when they see his hungry, predatory gaze. Cel smiles as he traces the path of their vein from their wrist up to their shoulder, before he leaps onto the arm of the chair nimbly. Gently, he tips their chin up as far as they’re able before he pounces, effortlessly straddling them while his teeth sink into their neck. Distantly, they hear the music has restarted.

The second bite is completely painless thanks to the combination of endorphins and whatever Zolf naturally injects. They barely feel his fangs brush against their vein, not quite puncturing it. Somewhat sluggishly, they grab onto his arm as the world begins to spin a little bit. Zolf sucks hard, and the world turns completely sideways and inside out, and Cel goes completely boneless. He hardly seems to have noticed, but he does reach up and cup their cheek, and the slight dig of his claws is grounding. 

It’s something Cel mentioned a long time ago, back before the feedings were purely for enjoyment and they were trying to take coherent notes. Zolf’s always been hesitant about using pain to keep them tethered though, not quite comfortable in hurting them more than necessary, despite their many reassurances. His natural state is so at odds with his nature, the gentle, albeit sad and angry, soul so opposite the apex predator he’s become. They moan, barely more than an exhale, and press into the bite of the claws. Zolf sits up immediately and pulls his hand away. 

When Cel finally has the composure to open their eyes, he’s carefully studying them. His mouth is stained red and his hair is all mussed up. He looks a bit concerned, but they can also see some other part of him straining against his composure. 

“You sure?” He asks, tapping one clawed finger on their shoulder. “I’m not.. You’ve gotta be sure.”

“Please. If you want.” Cel whispers. They’re pretty certain they’re smiling, but their nerves haven’t quite reformed yet, and their body feels pleasantly disjointed and far away. He definitely smiles, and looks a little bit relieved to be able to lean in again.

His fingers gently dig into their shoulder, just hard enough to feel through whatever is clouding through their mind. At the same time, he bites down right above their collarbone. Cel groans and arches into it, floating away again. There’s a distant tearing sound, and they vaguely recall the fact that they had been wearing a shirt. Wherever it is now, it’s in tatters, and their shoulder aches dully, almost feeling like a memory of an ache. Zolf moves to lick the blood that’s dripping down and pooling in the divot between muscles and bones whose names Cel can’t remember anymore. They shiver with every brush of his icy tongue and fangs, and whimper when he moves to their other shoulder to start all over again. Even through the haze, they’re pretty certain he’s smiling into each bite.

It’s no longer a meal to either of them, but a dance, a blood waltz of hunger and rapture that makes time blur and twist into unknowable shapes. Zolf takes what he needs, then what he wants, and Cel can hardly do anything but hang onto his shoulder, dig their fingers into his hair. At some point, they finally pass out, and the last thing they remember is a panicked yelp and hands catching them before they slump over.

Cel slowly starts to come to. They feel warm and fuzzy, like all their limbs are staticky and not quite together right. Slowly, they open one eye to see their bedroom and Zolf pushing open the door. He’s got something in his hands, but when he sees they’re awake, he sets it aside and smiles and they can see his fangs have retracted some. Another quirk of his strange transition.

“How are you?” Zolf says, brushing through their hair, and Cel’s eyes flutter closed. They don’t really know. Sore, maybe, but feelings don’t exist right now. Tired probably. They want to sleep for a year. Happy, definitely. Without opening their eyes, they grab at him, pulling weakly until he chuckles. “Right then.”

“Y’aren’t s’pposed to do that.” Cel slurs a bit when they feel his warm magic wrap around them, partially healing the bites and scratches that litter their neck and shoulders. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me. Just rest.” He replies. Carefully, he lies down on the bed and pulls them close. They try very hard to disobey, but the rumble of his voice makes the distant euphoric haze slowly take back over. They fall asleep curled into his chest, listening to the slow but present thump of his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please yell at me if I need to tag something, this has been.. particularly frustrating.


End file.
